


The Battle of Queen Betty

by TanyaReed



Category: due South
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-20
Updated: 2011-10-20
Packaged: 2017-10-24 19:53:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TanyaReed/pseuds/TanyaReed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little fun at the Consulate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Battle of Queen Betty

Ray Kowalski stood with his back against the wall and peeked around the corner. His gun was in his hand, and he held his breath in anticipation.

Not far away, he could hear his foe. The man was large and sometimes just a little clumsy, but now he showed amazing powers of stealth.

Ray's eyes scanned the small foyer and spied a spot of red behind the desk in the middle of the room.

“Got ya!” he cried, jumping into the room and shooting.

Five squirts of water shot out of the powerful gun, hitting the desk but somehow missing the Mountie behind it.

Turnbull's face popped up from behind the desk, and Ray grinned and jumped back into cover. He heard the water hit the wall right beside where he'd been standing.

“Missed, Turnbull. Give up.”

“Never,” came the enthusiastic reply.

“I'm going to get you sooner or later.”

“Not if I get you first, Detective.”

Ray had bought the super soakers that afternoon and knowing Turnbull liked toy guns as much as he did, he had brought them to the Consulate to try and entice his friend to play. Turnbull had been working and refused—until Ray shot the Queen.

“I said you're going down,” Ray said, crouching near the floor. His gaze went once more around the corner and his eyes met Turnbull's, who was peeking around the side of the desk. A flurry of shots filled the air with droplets of water but none of them hit flesh. The floors, walls, stairway, desk, and doors weren't so lucky.

Suddenly, Turnbull stood, his deadly aim on Ray. Ray jumped up and tried to get back behind his corner before he got hit. He fired at the same time, hoping that if he went down he'd take Turnbull with him.

The Ice Queen came barreling out of her office, and Ray's stomach clenched as he saw what was about to happen. Since both of them had already fired, there was no way he could stop it.

“What's all this...” Her words cut off mid sentence as Turnbull's stream of water hit her right in the face. She was still sputtering as Ray's own shot hit her in the chest. There had been enough ammunition that she suddenly looked as if she were a contestant in a wet t-shirt contest.

Ray realized he was staring and forced his eyes up. That was a mistake because the look on the Inspector's face made him want to laugh. He had a feeling that things would go very badly for him if he did.

Her expression was one of surprised horror. Her eyes were wide and her mouth hung slightly open. Water dripped from her hair and from her nose.

It was several seconds before she said very quietly, “What is going on here?”

Turnbull dropped his gun to his desk with a loud clatter and stood at rigid attention. He looked terrified.

Since the Mountie didn't answer, Ray lowered his weapon and took a step towards the Inspector. “Uh...sorry about that...”

She turned eyes full of angry fire on him and Ray flinched.

“I should have known you had a hand in this, Detective.”

“It's all my fault,” he agreed. “Turnbull wouldna...”

“Not here,” she cut him off, finally taking the time to run a hand over her face, dispelling the remaining drops. “I want to see both of you in my office...and bring the super soakers.”

“Yes, sir,” Turnbull said.

She glared at Turnbull before going back into her office. She left the door open, and Ray knew that if he and Turnbull weren't through it in about thirty seconds, there'd be hell to pay.

“C'mon, buddy,” Ray said quietly, “I'll tell her I shot Queen Betty.”

Turnbull's glare was almost as hot as Thatcher's at the disrespectful nickname. Ray just grinned at him to show he was teasing and stepped into the office.

The Inspector was already behind her desk, blotting at her soaked chest with a tissue. At their entrance, she raised her eyes and said, “Close the door behind you, Constable.”

Turnbull's voice was steady, somehow, as he answered, “Yes, sir.”

She was quiet for a moment, studying them. Some of the anger was gone from her face, but Ray still wasn't sure he was going to survive the upcoming confrontation.

“Am I correct in the assumption that the two of you were having a water fight in the halls of the Consulate?” she asked almost too calmly.

“Yeah, but...” Ray started.

She cut him off again. “And do you really think this was an appropriate activity, especially during working hours?”

“No sir.” This was Turnbull.

She had been looking at Ray, but at his words her gaze went to Turnbull. “As a member of the RCMP, I expect you to act with a certain amount of decorum, Constable.”

“Yes, sir.” Ray couldn't see his face, but he sounded miserable.

“You do know that I will have to punish you?”

“Wait a minute,” Ray said. “This wasn't his fault. I did it. I threatened his country so he had to come after me.”

Her eyebrows rose incredulously. “How did you manage that, Detective?”

“I shot the Queen.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The Queen. I shot her. Right between the eyes.”

“Turnbull?”

“I cannot confirm or deny that, sir.”

Ray sighed. That was so like Turnbull—unwilling to rat out a friend and unable to tell a lie.

The Inspector's expression tightened. She held out her hand and demanded firmly, “Guns.”

Turnbull obediently walked past Ray and placed his large super soaker in the Inspector's hand.

“Thank you, Turnbull.”

She placed the weapon on her desk and looked at Ray expectantly.

“C'mon, Inspector. You can't expect me to give you my gun.”

She continued to stare at him, her hand patiently waiting. He raised his chin defiantly but gave in when Turnbull whispered an urgent, “Ray.”

“All right,” he said sulkily, moving forward to put his own gun in her hand.

“Thank you, Detective. I want the two of you to promise me I won't see anything like this in my Consulate again. No future water fights, food fights, pillow fights, nothing of a combative nature, unless the building really is in danger.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okie doke.”

“Turnbull, I will be giving you additional sentry hours for the next month. Your new schedule will be posted tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The two of you are dismissed. Get to work, Turnbull. Go home, Detective.”

Turnbull nodded and left the office as quickly as he could. Ray paused to say, “Don't be too hard on him. It really was my fault.”

“I'll take that into consideration.”

Her face was unreadable. Ray searched it carefully, looking for signs of how harsh she intended to be.

Still unsure, he turned to go. He'd only taken a couple of steps when something cold and wet hit him like a slap to the back of his head. It was so unexpected that he almost stumbled.

He whirled in shock, expecting to see Thatcher triumphantly aiming a super soaker at him. Instead, she was primly seated at her desk, both guns still on the surface. She calmly met his eyes.

“Was there something else, Detective?”

Ray rubbed the wet spot in his hair, feeling water drip down into his collar.

“You shot me.”

“Don't be ridiculous.”

“You did!”

“Detective, have you been to a doctor for these hallucinations?”

That's when he saw it. Her face was completely emotionless but her eyes were smiling evilly. They almost twinkled.

“No,” he said slowly, “but I think I'll make an appointment for next week.”

He grinned and winked at her, and her mouth twitched.

As Ray turned to go this time, he was feeling a little more confident that Turnbull's punishment wouldn't actually be all that bad.

The end

**Author's Note:**

> This story came about because of conversations I was having both with x_nothing_here and kalijean at the same time. It's just a little bit of fun.


End file.
